Selling Satisfaction

by Ashley Beale

  "Shit, I had no idea, Brenna." I run my hand along her arm to attempt in comforting her. I doubt it works. "You can talk to me about anything you want. I'll be a listening ear without judgment."

  "Thank you," she mumbles. "I've done quite well for myself on my own, I'm not big on talking about my past, especially my parents, but your sincerity means a lot." She doesn't sound impressed, but it's understandable.

  "Did Emily tell you about our parents?"

  With a nod, she says softly, "Yeah. I'm sorry to hear about them."

  We come along a restaurant with outside seating. I ask if Brenna wants to eat there and she happily agrees. The view is of the ocean, and in the distance you can see a lighthouse off the coast. I remind myself to bring Brenna there one day. We're seated at a small, round table, not too close to others. A candle is in the center, it's flame dancing along with the small breeze. The sun hasn't set yet, but I know it will in about an hour or so. Which means we should be out here for the sunset.

  The waitress comes over to take our order. The menu consists mainly of seafood, so I order some fried haddock, taking the side salad and roll that come with it. Brenna orders a fried clam basket with the sides, plus an additional basket of fries, asking if she can have the fries and salad before the meal. I have no idea where she stores anything she eats.

  Already everything between us is better than the moment before we came inside. The peacefulness outdoors brings a serenity over us that wasn't there when the mention of parents took place. Now that she's opened up about that small bit, I'm going to have to ask Emily what Brenna told her about her parents. I have a feeling it was a lot more. I may even do something I've never done and open a case file up on her after all.

  "Look, over there." She points out to the sea. Glancing over there appears to be two, maybe three, dolphins at least a hundred yards from the shore.

  "Holy shit, that's awesome. Hopefully they don't wash up on shore."

  "They shouldn't. They're smart animals. There was probably something that sent them this way." She smiles as she watches them. I smile as I watch her. She's just as mesmerizing. "Have you ever seen a dolphin? You said you'd never been to the ocean before."

  When she looks at me, I try to look away, but it doesn't work. I get caught in the act of staring at her. Her eyes slightly narrow, like she's warning me not to do it again, but of course I won't listen. It's hard not to look at her. Especially with that killer red lipstick on.

  "What?" I ask, completely forgetting what she had asked me seconds ago.

  With an eye roll, she repeats her question. "Have you ever seen a dolphin? Like in real person."

  "Oh. No. I've seen a shark before, in fact I got to pet a baby shark. It was at an aquarium in Richmond. They also had electric eels, sting rays, and then they had this tank filled with things like those sea cucumber things that are awkward."

  I'm able to get a chuckle out of her before she glances back over. She watches the dolphins jumping around in the distance. They look to be getting further away. "There is something so much better about them being in the ocean rather than a tank. They're in their natural habitat. It's beautiful."

  Watching her speak with passion definitely hit the charts on one of my favorite things about Brenna. She does it with this look in her eye and a sound in her voice that isn't comparable. She glances back at me after a moment, her brows both rising. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

  "Like what?" I ask.

  "Don't pretend you're not. I've caught you twice. It's weird, stop it."

  She blushes ever so much. I take it as a sign I make her nervous. She holds up well though, she doesn't usually give more signs other than pink cheeks when she is feeling shy or vulnerable or embarrassed. In a strange way I'm proud that she's as strong willed as she is. Not many girls are, at least not ones I've been around.

  The waitress brings over our salads with the basket of fries, along with our drinks. She had ordered some red wine with hers. She mentioned wanting wine for Sunday too, but I can be honest when I say I know nothing about it, except that it's fermented grapes.

  "What kind of wine is that?" I ask. That way I can note what to buy for Sunday.

  "Pinot Noir, one of my favorites, but also best with seafood. Well, that is, if you like red wine."

  "So... what goes best with, uh, chicken cordon bleu?"

  "That's questionable. I think I'd better enjoy a merlot, to be honest."

  "Is it still red?"

  She grins in a teasing manor. "No, it's purple." When she winks before digging into her fries, I have to question that. I've heard of merlot, in fact it's one of the few I have heard of, so there is no reason I can't remember it.

  By the time she's done with her food and I'm done mine, we're both stuffed full and are ready for the check. Moments after I sign my name, I let out a loud burp on accident, probably due to the amount of soda I drank with my food. Brenna stands with a laugh, making light of it. "Sounds like you lost five pounds with that belch."

  "It feels it too." I rub my stomach when I stand up, too.

  As we stroll away, I casually slip my hand into hers. Her body tenses for all of a second before relaxing into my grip. Unlike the concert, where she remained like a stone while we made our way through the crowd. At that point, I didn't think I'd ever unravel her layers, so once again I've earned myself a victory.

  We continue holding hands as we head down through the village. The sky is starting to turn into a bluish-purple with swirls of pink and orange. The sun is almost gone, but you can't see any stars in the sky yet. Not even the moon. It's a perfect night for a walk.

  There are lights strung about, and some of the buildings are old. She points out a few of her favorites, as I eye ones I prefer. There is a street band playing and she pulls a ten dollar bill from her purse to place into the empty guitar case. The man nods to her while he continues to play.

  Getting another block down the road, there is an art museum with a Welcome sign lit up in neon green, with what appears to be ink blotches surrounding it. "Want to go in?" I ask.

  Brenna pulls my hand with a neediness, ready to head in before I finish my sentence. "I love art. I shouldn't pretend I know anything about it, because I don't, but I think it's beautiful just the same." She walks over to the first wall, eyeing the piece, then to the second. She doesn't say much of anything, but she looks at all the pieces with the same passion in her eyes as she did with the dolphin. Tonight I definitely picked correctly. Everything about all of this is perfect.

  We round to the next wall when she pauses, but not because of a piece of art. There stands a middle aged man with whom I presume to be his wife. He glances at Brenna, gives her a disapproving look, then proceeds to talk with the woman attached to his arm.

  Everything about Brenna pulls away. She isn't relaxed and joyous, but rather nervous in a way I've never seen.

  She continues to look at him, while I look back and forth, trying to figure out where she knows this man from. When he looks back at her, I can see he's trying to hint her to leave without saying as much. There is warning in his eyes, and I don't like it one bit.

  Leaning in I whisper, "Is everything okay?"

  Her body startles with my words, not even remembering I was right here next to her, holding onto her hand with mine. Her grip becomes needy all of a sudden, and quickly she nods her head yes. Once again she's pulling on me to walk, but this time it isn't to more paintings, it's to the door.

  "Who is that?" I ask when we reach the sidewalk.

  Her hand slides from mine as she falls onto her knees. As quick as I can, I kneel down with her, swiping strands of her out of her face. "Brenna," I say her name. When she seems too dazed to respond, I tap on her shoulder then start snapping in front of her face. I hate to do it, but she's closing up and it's scaring the fucking shit out of me. "Brenna," I say more forcefully.

  Suddenly she gasps for an intake of air, nearly chocking on each breath she attempts to take. Glancing up at me wit
h water in her eyes, all she says is, "Can we please go home?"

  Nodding, I tell her we can, then I help her back to her feet. It's five blocks until the truck, so hopefully before then she can find it in her to come back to reality. Maybe she can tell me who the fucking douche is, so I can settle whatever is going on.

  We walk three blocks, Brenna leaning against me for effort in her steps, when she asks if we can take a seat. There is a bench up ahead, so I help her to sit on it. When she does, her body curls down so that her face is practically resting against her legs.

  "Brenna," I question again, "Who was that man?"

  She shakes her head back and forth not answering.

  "Do I need to go ask him what's going on?"

  Finally looking at me, with a face as pale as a ghost, she starts shaking her head back and forth more intensely. "No, Everett, you can't."

  "Why? Who is he?"

  "Why is it important to you?"

  "It probably wouldn't be if I didn't see you nearly collapse and have a full blown panic attack over spotting some random guy in an art gallery."

  She closes her eyes and says, "Can we get home before we talk about this? Please?"

  As much as I don't want to, I tell her it can wait, then I help her to stand once more. She doesn't lean into me this time, nor does she reach for my hand. I don't push as much as I want to, because I already am forcing something on her that I feel necessary to know about.

  The ride home is silent. Nothing is said, no radio is played, nothing. Although my head sure has a million things to say. The ride is short, thankfully. I help Brenna from her side, and as a thanks she gives me a half smile that seemed to almost pain her to do.

  She doesn't try to fight me on going up to her place, in fact, she almost seems happy to go to mine. Once we're inside, I head straight for the kitchen to get her a glass of water, while she heads straight for the couch. I walk in to hand her the glass. To thank me she gives a better smile than before, but still doesn't say anything.

  "Can I get you anything else?" I ask.

  With a shake of the head, she tips the glass back, then places the cup on the end table.

  I stare at her for a few minutes, before opening my mouth. "Brenna, it's obviously something painful, so take your time, but I need to know who that guy was."

  She silently nods, looking down at her fingernails. She picks at the fabric on her jeans as a distraction, and after a few seconds, she sighs heavily. "Remember when you saw me that day coming off the elevator, and I told you I fell?"

  Everything in me starts to boil. I know exactly where this is going. Through gritted teeth, I answer, "Yeah..."

  "I never fell." She stops picking at her jeans to look up at me apprehensively. Silent tears pouring down her face.

  "Are you saying that piece of shit did that to you?" I have to stand away from her, scared with the amount of anger I have coursing through me. I was inches from the fucking asshole who put his hands on Brenna, and I didn't blast his teeth out. One way or another, I'll find that son of a bitch again, and I'll make him pay for everything he did.

  "Who is he?" I ask, before she even answers the last question. There is no point, we both know he did.

  "I'm not supposed to tell you anything about him," she says quietly. "It's part of my job. I'm not allowed to give names of clients, even if they're no longer with us. I've signed contracts, been paid money. If I tell you, and it gets turned about, I could lose everything, Everett. Not just my job, but my home, car, money, everything."

  "Then I won't do anything," I lie. I will find a way around it. I'll somehow link him to a damn drug bust and put him in jail for eight years, then pay one of the cell mates to teach him a lesson. It may not make things right, but I'll feel a lot better about it all. "I need a name, Brenna. That's all."

  She shakes her head. "This is why I waited until we got here. Please, it's not worth the risk."

  "Is this the first time you've seen him since it happened?"

  She nods.

  "Is he still connected with your job whatsoever?"

  "No, my boss made sure he was long gone. She is the only person I gave all the information to."

  "You're telling me not even your boss gave you the push or permission to go to the police?"

  Brenna stands, walking around the couch like she's prepared to go. "I told you, the police are fucking worthless assholes. I'm not getting into this. I told you who he was."

  She reaches for her purse but I race over to her, wrapping my arms around her. "Don't go," I beg.

  Her body remains still, completely unmoving in my arms. She doesn't fight me off, so I take that as a positive sign. "Why?" she whispers after a second.

  I hold her closer to me, closing my eyes. After a second, I hear a thud of the purse dropping, then her arms wrap around me as well. We hold one another for several minutes. I hope it brings her half as much comfort as it brings me.

  Leaning down, I kiss the top of her head, not removing my hands from around her body. "I'm sorry if I was out of line. I'm angry for you. I hate that you feel the way you do, I hate that he did that to you, and I hate even more that you don't trust me enough to tell his name. But I understand where you're coming from, even if I don't agree."

  She peeks up at me, tears still streaming down her cheeks. She's silent in her heartache.

  I let her go only for the fact of being able to run the pad of my thumb along her cheeks, ridding them from the tears. I fix the bit of makeup that got smudged with it, then push back all her hair covering any parts of her face. Brenna stares up at me, but I can't gauge a reaction from her.

  "I want to protect you," I whisper.

  "I've never had anyone do that for me," she whispers back. "I don't know how to handle it."

  "Let me show you."

  She runs her fingers through the side of my hair, taking a fistful of it with her hand then letting go. She does it a second time a little more hesitantly. When she starts to do it a third time, she doesn't let go. Instead she uses it to pull my mouth to hers.

  I can feel when she starts to cry again, this time it's while we kiss, but I don't think it's out of pain. No, I'm quite certain it's for all the opposite reasons. For allowing herself to open up to me, for letting this happen. For taking a step in the direction of letting go, so that one day, hopefully, she can fall in love with me.

  Opening my mouth to hers, she runs her tongue along the inside of my mouth. It devours my entirety. It leaves me needing more of her. I walk backwards, heading towards the bedroom. She follows, becoming more breathless with each needy step. When we get into the room, I turn to walk Brenna backwards, waiting for her legs to hit the bed so she can fall backwards. I fall with her, keeping us connected.

  She twists our bodies so she's on top, kissing me more passionately. Her fierceness takes over, all her emotions getting pushed away. Disconnecting our mouths, she sits straight on my lap, looking down at me with question in her eyes.

  "Everett," she says fervently. "Will you make love to me?"

  My hands grip into her thighs, needing to hold onto something after hearing those words come out of her mouth. "I'll do anything you want of me."

  Her arms cross in front of her as she grips the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her shoulders, tossing it somewhere to the ground. Her heaving chest is laced in yellow. I truly don't know if I want her to take the bra off or not, all I know is when it's removed, I want it to be by me.

  "Stand up," I tell her. "Take off your jeans. I need to see what else you're wearing."

  I fucking love the smile she gives me.

  Standing up, she faces towards me while unclasping her jeans, sliding them down her legs before kicking them away. When she straightens back up, she holds her hands to her hips, proudly displaying the most incredible body I've ever seen. The only fabric covering her is the matching underwear set she has on, and dammit, they only add to the sexiness that is Brenna.

  "Do you like what you see?" She asks,
waiting for something from me. Anything.

  I give her a throaty grunt, unable to form words for a minute. I look back up to those hypnotizing green eyes, unable to stop myself from telling her. "I love it. I love everything about you, Brenna."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Brenna

  I let what Everett says slip in one ear and out the other. I don't take it as him actually being in love with me, he simply loves my body, and cannot wait to screw me. Except, I don't want him to fuck me. I want him to be passionate with me. The way he is with his words is the exact same way I want his body to be with mine. Passionate, fierce, loving.

  Something I've never had before.

  Stepping forward, I say, "Show me."

  He sits up, quickly pulling his shirt over his head, shredding away his pants and socks immediately after. All that remains are his boxer briefs. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband to slide them off, but I stop him by putting my hand over his. "Let me," I suggest.

  We lock eyes as I slowly slide the last remaining article of clothing off him, and once they're off, I look him over. His stomach is toned with rippled muscles but not overly dramatically so. He has a deep v at his waistline. I follow along it to see he is as big as he looked in the picture I received the other night... and definitely equally as hard. I run my fingers over his length, glancing back up to see if he's watching me. He stares at my hand then slowly makes his way up my body again, forcing his sight on my eyes as well.

  "My turn," he murmurs. Standing up, he reaches for the clasp on the front of my bra, unhooking it to glide down my arms onto the floor. He licks his lips as he examines my breasts. One hand covers one and I'm pretty sure I hear him mumble the word fuck under his breath.